Mauve
by fabricated fantasies
Summary: Teddy is like your son. So you clutch him closer, and you wish he was yours.


**Written for HollyWrites' "It's Quite Simple, Really" challenge.**

_May 3__rd__ 1998_

You rock the bundle in your arms, and focus only on his face. You search it for any part of him that doesn't remind you of _him_, or _her_. That doesn't remind you of the pain and suffering of yesterday, still continuing in your heart and in the room next door. You try to look at him, and only him, so you can try to ignore the high-pitched keening sounding from outside the door.

The baby's heart-shaped face moves as he shifts, large, light blue eyes opening with a flutter of long brown lashes. You gaze into his eyes, glad that there is a part of him that belongs to neither Tonks nor Lupin, something that sets him apart from the legends of his parents.

As you watch, his small tufts of hair cycle through every colour of the rainbow, before finally settling on a dusky mauve.

The door opens behind you, shutting moments later, but not before the sound of two women in pain had reached your ears.

You feel a pair of arms slide around your waist, raising your shirt slightly. You shiver as the rough, raised skin of a scar brushes against your exposed skin.

You turn your head and gaze up into startling green eyes, and you can't help but imagine those same eyes on the child in your arms. You feel guilty for wanting to start a family when so many have lost theirs, but you want to believe that your children will make this whole war worth it. So you clutch Teddy closer, and wish that he was yours.

You haven't forgiven Harry yet, but you still understand that he _needs you_, and that all your hurt and anger (it seems so petty right now) can wait. The comfort you give to him is as much for you as it is for him. You know you'll have to talk, oneday, _someday_, but for now the silence muffles the pain, and the feeling of his arms around you is all you need.

You glance down to find those wide blue eyes locked on the figure behind you, and you take the time to burn Teddy's image in your mind. Just in case. Though you can't bear to lose them again. You know it's selfish to think of him as two halves of them, but it's so _hard_. You want to pretend they're still here, that Teddy will not be another Harry, an orphan of war. You want to pretend they're still here, because if they are, then _Fred_ is… but your mind shuts out those thoughts, you can't handle them right now.

Years later, as you watch him from the stands, him leaning for on his broom, his blue Ravenclaw robes worn with pride, flapping in the wind as he zooms across the pitch. You remember those wide blue eyes, unchanged but yet different. Now Teddy is not simply a piece of _her_ and a piece of _him, _or a reminder of memories you wish you could forget.

He catches sight of you, and waves a hand, the Quidditch gloves you had given him for his birthday catching the light, the gold embossment of his name glinting in the sun.

You find it hard to let go of the child he used to be, even now, and tears fill your eyes as you realise that this is his last year, that this is his final match, and the brown eyed boy you held in your arms seventeen years ago is no longer here.

Those arms slip around you again, and you remember you are not alone in missing the child Teddy was. Though, of course, you're proud of who he is now. But you also know that though Andromeda gave him a roof over his head, and food and love, and though Harry is his godfather, you are the one who held him through the night while Andromeda grieved, and while Harry came to terms with finally having a future.

And those moments, you realise, are yours alone. You watch as he dives, leaning forward with one hand out-stretched to grasp the tiny Snitch in his fist.

After the game, he comes to find you, hair switching effortlessly to a dusky mauve, and you watch him throw a smile to Victoire over his shoulder.

"You should ask her out, you know," you whisper teasingly in his ear, and laugh inside when his face turns as red as Ron's ears after an argument.

"Really?" he asks.

"Yeah." The word escapes your lips, and you half want to take it back. But you don't. He smiles and hugs you, walking away calling to Victoire.

And you let go of the wide-eyed child you held in your arms the day after the world both broke to pieces and remade itself, and you smile the smile of a mother who is proud of who her son has become.

_I always thought Teddy would need a mother figure, because Andromeda was so broken by the loss of almost all her family, including Bellatrix, who I believe she still loved. Andromeda was also, frankly, too old. So Ginny would be a logical choice for that figure, as Harry is his Godfather and so Ginny would see Teddy often._

_Please review._


End file.
